


Fire Eyes

by Dynosavvy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bikers, Gangs, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Leather, M/M, Motorcycles, Rivalry, Sex Work, Smut, Some derogatory comments towards sex workers, They don't represent my views
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-11-09 10:04:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11102271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dynosavvy/pseuds/Dynosavvy
Summary: "He brought the darkness inside with him as he entered the bar, the shadows seemingly drawn to him from every corner of the crowded room. The customers inside quieted a little as they caught sight of the leather-clad men, but soon continued on with their conversations, the alcohol that was freely flowing making them bolder..."





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> please don't repost anywhere without permission!  
> Also, I listened to a lot of Bruno Major while writing this.

The sun finally dropped behind the mountains in the distance. The sky stayed a light shade of orange, and dust swirled in the air. Leaning on his black Harley Davidson, Harry caught a whiff of the sharp smell of gasoline. To anyone else, it would be repulsive. To him, it smelled like home. He tugged down the sleeves of his black leather jacket, and took in the sunset for a few more seconds before spinning on one foot to face the dingy bar the rest of his gang had already entered. The loud chorus of Paradise City by Guns n’ Roses spilled out of the windows, and as he strode towards the bar he heard loud yells of

“Fucking Shit! This fucking cunt I tell ya!”

A cruel smirk curled around his lips as he ran his fingers through his shoulder length hair and slammed open the door of the bar. A brief silence fell over the bar as everyone looked at who entered, then a collective cheer went up from his gang congregated inside.

“LOOK WHO FINALLY SHOWED UP, YE DICKWAD! COME HAVE A DRINK!” his second-in-command, Niall roared, as the other patrons in the bar went back to their conversations, albeit with a slight tinge of fear to their actions.

Harry luxuriated in his power as  he made his way over to his boys, his heavy boots resounding on the wood floor. He winked at girls and the occasional boy on his way, plucking a cigarette from the mouth of a man he passed and taking a deep drag. When he reached his raucous group, he loudly pulled out a chair, and dropped into it with all the attitude he could muster.

“Anything good to drink in this shithole?” he asked Niall, his deep voice curling smokily around the words.

He got a brief impression of bleach blond hair and a leather jacket matching his before a large bottle of Heineken was shoved into his hand.

“Not much, but beer is fucking beer, amiright?” Niall answered, a shit-eating grin dancing around his lips as he casually smacked the barmaid’s ass with his other hand, not even looking. She turned around with a small cry, then took in her aggressor and promptly quieted. She moved away quickly, but not before casting an admiring glance up and down Niall’s lounging form, the picture of lightning compressed into a biker. He winked at her as she left, then turned back to Harry. The leader raised one eyebrow, not impressed as he took a deep drag from his beer.  

“Stop dicking around you fucks, did you hear that some other gang is trying to shoehorn in on our business?” Nick, another biker, muttered lowly at Harry from his other side. Niall and Harry both slowly swiveled to face him, faces impassive but their minds shooting off warning bells.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Niall rasped at him. “We do the best damn job of doing jobs, and I don’t want some other motherfucker trying to…”

“What are they doing? Who are they? Where did you hear this?” Harry interrupted him, a dangerous glint in his eye. He knew that Nick wouldn’t say something like that unless it was serious.  

“Some gang called Poisoned Blades…They don’t directly compete with us, but they sell semi-automatics as well as Glocks to whoever pays them what they ask for.” Nick answered harshly.

“Those motherfuckers!” Niall swore angrily, sweeping his empty beer bottles off the table.

Harry didn’t flinch as they shattered on the ground, his forehead furrowed angrily. This gang, if they actually got business, could completely get rid of the demand for the service his gang provided. As mercenaries, the Devils killed or pillaged or destroyed whatever they were paid to. Suddenly the cheap lights of the bar and the sharp smell of beer became oppressive. This could mean only one thing. He had to take out the competition.

“You’re certain?” He snarled at Nick. “This is deep shit if it’s true.”

“I heard from someone who wouldn’t lie.” Nick replied. He smiled, his canines glinting in the light as he muttered, “I killed him anyways, after he told me.” 

Harry grimaced, recalling Nick’s love for strange torture methods. His thoughts started whirling around his head, as he tried to reason out what should be done. As Niall explosively swore next to him while downing another beer, he smiled. Nick leaned back, his eyes narrowing in anticipation. When his leader smiled like that, it meant a wild night. Another patron of the bar pushed past Harry, and jostled his shoulder.

“Sorry” the burly drunk muttered, continuing on his way.

“You will be.” Harry answered, a feral gleam in his eyes as he turned around and punched the man in the face as quick as a striking snake. The rest of the Devils roared, and threw down their drinks while turning to fight whoever was nearest. Blood sprayed over the floor and as the song playing changed to Bat out of Hell by Meatloaf, the bar dissolved into a writhing mass of humans.

“Needed to think, eh?” Niall yelled at Harry while they both swung their fists and simultaneously knocked out their opponents. “You only do cheap fights like this when you need to calm down, I know you, you cunt!”

Harry bared his teeth back, yelling back “Nothing better than some pain, Nialler!”

Later that night, as the Devils strode out to their bikes victorious and yelling savagely, leaving the bar in shambles and a pair of horns burning on the roof, Harry found himself wondering about this new gang to contend with. Whoever they were, he knew he could take them down. No one had beaten him yet, and no one could. He was The Black Devil, and he had never backed down.

“Where were they last seen?” He yelled at Nick. “And who the FUCK is their leader?”

As the growling of bikes started up around him, Nick smiled ruefully.

“They’re in Red Rock, Arizona. And their leader is some cunt that we’re going to take out.”

Harry shuddered in anticipation, blood rushing to his hands as he started his bike.

“There have been rumors that their leader used to be a whore, or something like that…he took down the former leader, and word has it that he’s been ruling ever since…my source seemed to fear him a shit ton.” Nick yelled back disgustedly.

Harry’s lips curled in revulsion. A sex worker. Leading a gang. 

“Shouldn’t be too hard to take down,” he yelled at Nick, revving his engine a few times. “Just throw some dollar bills at him!”

Nick laughed loudly as Harry pulled out of the bar, his jacket flapping in the breeze. The rest of the bikers followed suit, and soon only tire marks, the burning bar, and a lingering smell of gasoline showed that they had ever been there.


	2. II

 “Mmmmmmmmmmpf”.

Warm sunlight spilled across the leather seat of a lean black BMW motorcycle.  It highlighted sharp cheekbones, and beamed down upon a group of bikers laying about in disarray in an empty parking lot. The man reclining languidly on the seat stretched luxuriously, arching his back like a cat as he felt the warmth of the sun. Turning to his side, he gazed at the members of his gang slouching about. His gaze traveled past a pair sitting on the ground playing cards, a few others casually leaning on their black bikes and guffawing raucously at something, and  a group smoking cigarettes while kicking about pebbles. He pulled a Marlboro out of his tightly cut black leather jacket and lit it with an elegant flick of his thumb over the lighter. He then looked to his right, fluttering his long eyelashes against the setting sun and pushing his tousled brown hair off of his forehead.

“Zaaaaaaaaayn…” he purred.

No acknowledgment was given. He tried again.

“ZAAAAAAAAAAYNNNNN“  he whined. “Nap time has been lovely, but I’m afraid we can’t keep blocking off this parking lot. After all, we have been here almost all afternoon…”

The distant sounds of angry murmuring and the occasional indignant horn filtered into his hearing. The man sat up, and surveyed the sullen group of drivers waiting and occasionally attempting to enter the parking lot of the supermarket where the Poison Blades were currently ensconced. Most of the cars waiting had given up hours ago, but there were a few persistent losers who would leave and then come back. They would have been more outspoken in their annoyance were it not for the two hulking bikers standing with their arms folded at the entrance to the parking lot, automatic weapons fully on display. The black-haired man reclining next to the first man also came to an upright position, carefully fixing his hair and smirking slightly.

Finally replying, Zayn said

“Since when did you care about the public good, Louis?”  

A large muscled man with curly brown hair tied back by a red bandana sitting on the other side of Zayn laughed at that. His biceps flexed as he took off his bandana and re-tied it, saying

“Our Louis doesn’t give a shit, he’s just bored, Zayn. Since we scared the police in this town too badly at that bar last night, there’s no one to give us a good fight.”

“That’s true actually” Zayn acknowledged. “I do think you may be on to something great with this whole…thinking thing, Liam.”

Louis chuckled slightly at the indignant expression on the brown haired man, motioning to his two parking lot guards with a crook of one finger. They ambled over, but not without a parting glare at the one driver left who immediately revved his engine and drove away.  

“What makes you think I want a fight? I don’t even like fighting! Violence is never the answer.”

Both Zayn and Liam laughed at that, Zayn pretending to wipe away tears from his eyes.

“You’re a lying bastard, Louis Tomlinson.”

“Yeah, the only thing you like more than fighting is fucking”

Louis winked at Zayn lewdly for that last comment, laughing. In one fluid motion, he dismounted and strutted up to Zayn, who sat up still laughing.

“But babe, you know I’m so good at it, it would be a shame not to share the wealth!” Louis said in a breathy Marilyn Monroe voice.

“Are you talking about fighting or fucking?” Liam questioned.

Shrugging, Louis said “it goes for either, really.”

Zayn rolled his eyes exasperatedly. “Trust me sweetcheeks, I’ve seen you do plenty of both. Please, don’t feel the need to share.”  Louis was the one left rolling his eyes at that. Liam sat there looking faintly amused, yet unsure why he was so.

“I don’t care that there aren’t any fights left” Louis pouted. “I can always fight with you, Zaynie!...mmm perhaps not” He amended, noting the second eye roll that had followed his statement.  “But picture it, it would be the most attractive fight anybody had ever seen! You don’t see faces like these in combat every day!”

Another unimpressed glare was sent in his direction, but Louis had turned away. He gazed over his gang again, getting increasingly bored.

 He straddled his bike and started it, reveling in the low roar of the engine. “I’m not leaving just yet.”

The pair playing cards noticed the change in their leader and swept up the cards, standing with matching groans and cracking of joints. The group smoking took their last drags and threw their cigarettes on the ground. The Poison Blades all approached their bikes, starting them. As the sound of engines filled with the air like thunder, Louis pondered his next move. He knew that staying in one place for too long was dangerous. His gang wasn’t the only one out there, and he was bound to have pissed off some testosterone-fueled mongoloid at some point (it tended to happen). However, with no immediate plans…

“Boys, lets go get drinks!” He yelled joyfully.

The Poison Blades laughed, and followed him as he peeled out of the parking lot. On his way, Louis dragged his silver studded rings across the hoods of the cars he passed, cackling. Zayn and Liam, riding behind him, smirked and followed suit, sparks rising up like fountains. A few moments later, the parking lot was left as empty and gritty as they had found it.

            The wind rushed around Louis’s face, tousling his hair and tossing gravel up behind him.  The hefty duffel bag strapped to the bag of his motorcycle clanked, giving away its cargo of weapons. The landscape flashed by, flat land coated with red rocks and cacti culminating in shadowy mountains far off in the distance. The growling of bikes soothed Louis into a trance-like state. There was nothing more comforting to him than this. He had worked hard for his position, and would defend it tooth and nail. The lights of a town a few miles up glimmered in the evening light. A sign saying “Red Rock, Arizona” passed by. His leather goggles pressed into his face, keeping the sand off. As the gang roared past the outer borders of the town, his eyes narrowed, focusing on the tacky lights of the bar where they were heading in the distance. Thumping bass spilled into the parking lot as they pulled in, parking their bikes directly in front of the bar. Dismounting and taking off his goggles, Louis stretched again. A thrill of anticipation curled in his stomach as he gazed at the bar, blinking lights and silhouettes of moving bodies giving away the atmosphere of the gathering within. Darkness had fallen with the sun disappearing behind the mountains, and shadows curled around the slight form of the biker leader. His eyes were darkly accentuated in the dim lights outside the bar, and he fixed his wind-swept hair as he waited for his gang to join him. Zayn and Liam ambled up to him as he rotated his neck, stretching slightly. The rest of the gang also stretched their limbs as their bikes grumbled to a halt.

“Feeling a little longing for the old days, Louis?” Zayn teased him light-heartedly.

He was the only one who would dare bring up Louis’s past. After all, he had escaped from that hellhole as well. Their work had often occurred in venues such as this, dark nights and dark rooms with the scent of alcohol swirling around and heavy bass beats lulling everyone into a trance. They still worked late nights now, but were fortunately free to choose their own work. Thoughtfully gazing at the bar, Louis tore away his eyes and turned to the gang, ignoring Zayn entirely.

“You know the drill” he said sharply.

He walked around the group of men, catching the eyes of each in turn.

“Don’t make a scene, don’t get so drunk you can’t ride, and keep your eyes open for other gangs.”

They all muttered affirmations at him, their gazes already longing for the bar and the good times waiting within. Louis turned on his heel and started striding towards the bar, not even looking back at his men. He knew they were right on his heels. Lifting his chin, he squared his shoulders and steeled his eyes into a cold and unforgiving stare. He needed every ounce of power and intimidation he could get to make up for his smaller stature that often led men to assumptions.

            He brought the darkness inside with him as he entered the bar, the shadows seemingly drawn to him from every corner of the crowded room. The customers inside quieted a little as they caught sight of the leather-clad men, but soon continued on with their conversations, the alcohol that was freely flowing making them bolder. Louis made his way to the bar, Liam following closely behind him. Zayn had gotten caught up by a group of beautiful girls as he had entered, and was currently sitting in a booth with each arm around a girl. He lowly laughed at something the brunette on his right had said, causing her to flush and look away. Louis didn’t blame her, meeting someone as beautiful as Zayn didn’t happen very often and most girls couldn’t handle it. Cutting his gaze back to the bar, Louis noticed Liam’s sullen glance at Zayn and then settled his eyes upon the bartender. He registered the bartender raking his eyes up and down Louis’s frame, and refrained from smirking. Turning to the side a little to tease his ass, he actually did smirk when he saw the eyes of the bartender widen a little bit.

“If you’re done staring, I’d love a scotch on the rocks” he purred.

The bartender looked back up at him with no shame, and smirked right back. “Anything for you darling” he said, grabbing a glass. Liam harrumphed behind him, and Louis reached back and pinched his thigh without looking. “Also, a Heineken for my friend here” He called, receiving a small flicker of the bartender’s fingers in response. Liam squeaked in pain as Louis accepted his drink, and if his hand lingered a little on the fingers of the bartender, then it was probably for the best that Liam had been distracted.

“I get off in an hour” the bartender muttered. “I’ll save you a whole bottle of scotch if you stick around.”

Swallowing a smirk again, Louis cocked an eyebrow. “I guess you’ll just have to see if I’m still around then. And I’ll want some interesting conversation.”

He turned around and walked through the crowd without waiting for a reply, Liam still hot on his heels. Finding a booth, they sat down and were immediately joined by two other bikers and the girls they brought with them.

            An hour later, Louis was in the middle of an animated tale about how he had forced Liam to steal two packs of Trojan XL condoms and a banana from a gas station after winning a bet when he noticed the bartender coming out from behind the bar. Shifting in his seat to put his curves on better display, he leaned over to whisper in the ear of the biker sitting next to him, all while staring at the man approaching. As the bartender came up, all the bikers in the booth turned to face him, fake smiles pasted onto all of their faces.

“Come on in mate! Have a drink with us!” the biker sitting next Louis called out cheerily.

Liam had to pretend to sneeze to hide his snickering at their enthusiasm, knowing full well that the bikers were only doing this because Louis had asked them to, and that Louis had only asked them to because he was fishing for information and bartenders always knew everything. The distinctive guitars of Fallen Angel by Poison screamed throughout the speakers in the bar, and the volume of the customers increased in excitement. Amidst the noise, the bartender slid into the booth to sit next to Louis.

“I have your scotch, as promised” he said hotly, leaning closer to Louis.

Looking up through his eyelashes, Louis asked coyly “What about my information, love? I need some good conversation before I can let you give me another drink” The bartender leaned closer, his breath fanning over Louis’s lips.

“I can tell you that another biker gang is in the area, if that’s what you’re looking for. They seem a little more…un-appealing than you guys, though. I heard they trashed Mulligans a few miles on the other side of town yesterday night, and they might still be in the area…”

He grabbed the glass out of Louis’s hand, and poured him a liberal portion of scotch. Luckily, in doing so he had missed Louis tensing up and tapping the table to get Liam’s attention. As Liam listened in while pretending to keep an eye on Zayn, who was also watching Louis from across the room while ignoring the girls surrounding him, the bartender watched greedily as Louis took a deep drink.

“My name is Dean, by the way…was that information intriguing enough for you?” Louis forced himself to relax and become coy again, his restraint invisible to anyone except for Zayn.

He stroked his hand up Dean’s inner thigh, smokily whispering “If you can tell me their name sweetheart, I just might be intrigued enough to do some bad things…” Dean’s eyes turned almost black as he curled his hand around Louis’s waist, leaning in for a kiss and whispering

“The Devils.”


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is pissed, but what else is new

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know its been a while, don't hate me. Also, this one is short, but they finally meet in the next one so I promise it'll be longer.

Harry rolled over in the cheap motel bed, gritting his teeth against the bruise in his side. The kicker was that he hadn’t even gotten hit in the fight. No, his bike had kicked up a rock as the Devils were peeling away from that bar (Marianne’s? Milligan’s?) a few nights ago. Most of the bikers had spent the day recovering and lazing around the motel where they were currently camping out. Now that it was almost night time, they were out and about again. Harry wisely chose to ignore any indignant shrieks filtering through his uneven blinds, knowing that if one of his boys went over the line he would hear much worse than that. Niall had been scaring maids and bullying them into giving him free stuff, he had a bit of a thing for the small bottles of shampoo and conditioner. He claimed they made his hair softer, but who knew really. Morosely staring at his cellphone lying stubbornly silent on the bedside table, Harry dropped his hands onto his face and viciously rubbed his eyes. He had been calling some of his contacts in the area, trying to find out anything he could about this gang led by a sex worker. All he knew was that they had been at a bar on the other side of town recently, and that their leader was rumored to have a body to kill for. Apparently the sex worker thing was true after all. At least, from appearances it could be. Harry curled his lips angrily and got out of bed. The weak light in the room bounced off of his pale skin, dark tattoos standing in harsh contrast upon rippling muscles and a pair of gray boxer-briefs. Stomping into the bathroom, he splashed some water on his face and walked back out into the room toweling off. Wrinkling his nose slightly, he picked up his ripped black pants from the floor and pulled them on, jumping a little so they came to settle on his hips. Sending another glare towards his phone, he grabbed the offensive device and slid open the door to the balcony. Chips of paint rained down as he brushed the doorjamb on his way out, settling into an uneven iron chair. Nick was already there, smoking his way through a pack of Camels. Harry motioned for one with an outstretched hand, receiving one wordlessly. The two bikers sat in silence watching the sun slowly go down behind the horizon, wisps of smoke curling up around them. The black tattoos covering Harry’s chest writhed as he stretched and flexed, cracking his spine and knuckles. He crossed his arms over his chest, taking a long drag. Flicking the ash from his cigarette, he looked over at Nick. The dark-haired biker was already looking back at him, a cruel set to his eyes.

“I’m going to have to do something” Harry said flatly. Nick finished his cigarette and flicked it over the edge of the railing. Raising his eyebrows, he snorted snidely.

“Of course you are,” he said in a haughty tone, indicating he had already come to the same conclusion, “But what?”

Harry scowled down at the arms of the cheap plastic chair he was sitting in, scratching one absentmindedly with a fingernail.

“That, I don’t know” he muttered sullenly. “They’ve got the man power to match us, and what they lack they certainly make up for in firepower”

Nick snorted again, muttering “Damn straight” as Harry continued.

“I suppose we should probably set up a meeting of some sort, though I have next to no intel on these guys…”

He scowled even more fiercely, brief fantasies of torturing people for information floating through his head. Flexing his fingers, Harry ran them through his hair, looking back at Nick.

“We’ll need to send them a message,” he said meaningfully “Something this whore will find intriguing enough to show up to. Of course, he won’t go anywhere alone, but if we can surprise them…”

He looked off into the distance, green eyes narrowed in thought. A brief gust of wind ruffled his hair, turning up dust in the parking lot below the balcony as it raced past. A tapping on the railing brought his attention back to Nick, who was shaking out another cigarette.

“If we catch them off guard, it’ll make them more honest” Nick said roughly.

Harry nodded in reply, his thoughts racing. If he was able to get undermine the confidence upon which this sex worker had built his following, then he would have an edge. It was hard for people to change their nature, and there's no denying their leader must have an extraordinary knack for bullshit if he could get a bunch of bikers to follow him considering his...background. However, people's true selves always betray them. There must be something that pushed this leader into sex work in the first place, and Harry was sure he could find it and use it to get a leg up. Some old insecurity, some inner feeling of being worthless, it was all good to use against him. And if he had an edge, Harry was confident that the sheer power and intimidation he was well aware that he exuded would get this leader down on their knees for him. He knew an old warehouse across town that, while being a cliché place to hold a meeting, was out of the way so they wouldn’t be disturbed. Pushing himself out of his chair, he looked down at Nick, who was still smoking.

“Get them to the Junker Street warehouse tonight at eleven, and I don’t care how you do it” He said with a sigh, turning and ambling back into the room.

He closed the door behind him, so all that was visible from the inside was a hint of black hair and soft curls of smoke. Groaning as he stretched again, Harry went to find his clothes. He had some time to kill, and he might as well have a drink while he waited.

 

 

Later that day, Zayn would be very surprised when, upon waking up in the bed of one of the girls he had been talking to, he would find the girl gone and a sticky note taped to his forehead with an address and a time on it. He would be even more surprised that she hadn’t left her number.


End file.
